


The Northmen will come back

by Lesatha



Category: Vikings (TV)
Genre: M/M, based on the promo, spoilers for episode 2x07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2014-03-30
Updated: 2014-04-06
Packaged: 2018-01-17 15:24:14
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,057
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/1392652
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Lesatha/pseuds/Lesatha
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Set after High Mass during episode 2x05. Athelstan has to face his Lord Aethelwulf.</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

> This is my first fic and English isn't my first language, so I apologize for the mistakes.
> 
> Oh and I have bad feelings regarding Aethelwulf. That's my only excuse for this :)

Athelstan sat quietly on the bed of his poorly furnished room. He kept staring at the wooden cross hanging on the opposite wall, all the while thinking about what had happened during high mass.  
Taking the host in his mouth didn’t have any meaning now. Worse, it had felt wrong. So wrong. He should have been praying the Lord to have mercy on his pagan soul and yet, all he could think about was Ragnar. Oh yes, he had prayed. _Please, come back. Please don’t leave me here_.

Athelstan just felt… out of place. Neither a monk nor a Northman but still, an apostate. A traitor to his own kind. He didn’t know who he was anymore but one thing was clear: every passing day made him feel less and less a Christian, and even more craving for Ragnar. _I should have left with you_.

So he had furtively taken the host out of his mouth. Well, not so furtively. Of all people, Aethelwulf had to be the one catching him going all pagan. Pinned under the hard stare of the King’s son, Athelstan had felt a shiver run along his spine. He knew that stare; some of the soldiers who had caught him had looked at him the same way. And then… _Please, don’t! No, please!_

His pleas had been fruitless. And deep down, Athelstan knew that Aethelwulf would be just like those soldiers. Hell, he would have gladly beaten him up himself, Athelstan was quite sure of that.

Athelstan shifted on his bed and reached under his ratty pillow, his fingers catching the familiar cold metal. He grasped the arm ring and took it out, gazing at it longingly. No one had managed to take it from him before the crucifixion and after, no one had thought about it. His battered body must have been… distracting.

His preoccupied mind distantly registered the sound of footsteps echoing in the corridor, getting closer to his room. Quickly, Athelstan hid the arm ring back under his pillow, one second before the door opened. Aethelwulf. _Of course_. Athelstan drew his knees to his chest, slowly pressing his back against the corner of the wall. _Way to impress your enemy_. The King’s son closed the heavy door, the sound of it raising a sick feeling inside of Athelstan. From the moment Aethelwulf had come in, his eyes hadn’t left the face of the former monk. He took a few steps, getting closer to the bed, and crossed his arms, a smirk playing on his lips. Athelstan involuntarily tensed.

“Well, look at you. Such frightened eyes. Would you have something to confess? Something weighing heavily on your conscience, perhaps?”

Athelstan swallowed.

“You know, little Pagan, that look suits you,” Aethelwulf said gleefully. He uncrossed his arms and sat on the bed, setting a hand softly on one of Athelstan’s ankles. The King’s son leaned towards him and lowered his voice to a whisper, as if to tell him a secret.

“It makes your eyes even brighter…”

Athelstan remained perfectly still, his gaze trained on Aethelwulf’s.

“I saw you this morning” the Englishman added. “I saw what you did. You’re lucky I didn’t say anything yet to my father.”

Athelstan had to repress a snort, his fear mixed with annoyance for a brief moment. _Just go to your dear father and tell him how I misbehaved_.

“Why didn’t you say anything?” he asked instead.

“Ah, now you talk. Well, my father wouldn’t like that. He probably would have to punish you harshly.”

“Your father needs me” Athelstan snapped. “Otherwise, he would have left me to rot on that cross.”

Aethelwulf let out a surprised chuckle and raised his eyebrows.

“I knew you had some fire in you, little pagan.” He tightened his grip around Athelstan’s ankle, stroking the smooth skin with his thumb. “I admit that my father would not be too bothered by your actions. But the Archbishop would be. The Church is powerful you know, and he could find a way to convince my father, force him maybe…”

“What’s your point?” Athelstan cut in. He was so tired. He just wanted to nurse his wounds, sleep and forget about all this for a tiny moment.

Aethelwulf stopped stroking his ankle and leaned even closer, his hand creeping up the smaller man’s calf.

“I won’t say a word about this and no holy man will land a hand on you again. In return…” He pushed up the monk robe a bit and put a hand on each of Athelstan’s knees, slightly spreading his legs.

_Never hesitate._

Athelstan lunged sideways and grabbed the candle burning on the bedside table, directing it to Aethelwulf’s face as fast as he could. Which wasn’t really fast, truthfully. Barely thrown off guard, the King’s son grabbed his wrist with one hand, using the other to press on Athelstan’s bruised hand. He screamed and dropped the candle. Aethelwulf seized his wrists and pinned him on the bed, one knee between the younger man’s thighs.

“That was rather stupid of you. I wonder where you thought you could escape,” he sneered. “But I was right, that fire you have! I can see why the Northman spared you…” He pressed his hips against Athelstan’s. “And kept you close, always ready for his personal use.” He pressed down even more.

Athelstan raised his head sharply.

“You know nothing about him!”

Aethelwulf took both his wrists in one hand and grabbed his jaw with the other, forcing his mouth open, pushing his thumb inside.

“I know that you committed many sins with him. Those who saw him looking at you were quite clear on that point. He appeared to be a bit possessive, according to them. Truthfully, I can’t blame him. You’re lovely, for a pagan.”

_Lovely._

Athelstan bit down on the thumb invading his mouth, hard. If only he had his axe. Aethelwulf shouted and backhanded him, and _God, that hurt_. The blow made him dizzy, unable to prevent Aethelwulf from swiftly taking the robe off him and turning him on his stomach, fully settling between his spread thighs. Athelstan tried to push himself up, but any pressure on his hands was excruciating. All he could do was squirm against the large hands holding his hips, every new attempt to break free getting weaker and weaker.

“So, tell me now, little pagan,” Aethelwulf whispered while lowering himself on Athelstan, fully covering him. “How badly have you sinned with the Northman?”

He rolled his hips a little and Athelstan could feel his hardness pressing between his cheeks.

“I bet you used your filthy mouth on his dick like a perfect little whore.” A finger pressed against his entrance. Athelstan briefly closed his eyes, then turned his head as much as he could to look at the King’s son.

“My filthy mouth would rather greet his dick than your holy host.”

That finger brutally entered him and he dropped his head against the mattress, holding back a pained whimper. Another finger quickly followed, scissoring him, and Athelstan had to bite his lower lip.

“I bet you would” Aethelwulf grunted in his ear. He insistently pressed two fingers against the younger man’s lips. “I advise you to wet them well. That’s all you’ll have for today.”

_Keep the damage at a minimum. You’ll make him pay one day._

Athelstan reluctantly parted his lips and let the fingers inside. Aethelwulf hummed a sound of approval.

“Soon you’ll suck on something else. But not now, I don’t trust you enough for that. You’ll have to be tamed a bit before we take that step.”

He removed his fingers and smeared the saliva on his member, pressing against Athelstan’s hole and then pushing the head inside. This time, the former monk couldn’t repress a piercing scream.

“Well, I guess you were not ready for this. I promise that I’ll better prepare you, next time.” He pushed even more, now halfway in. Athelstan blinked a few tears away.

“They… they will come back, you know,” he managed to say.

Aethelwulf distractedly hummed at this, focusing on the heat slowly engulfing him.

“The Northmen. They will come back,” Athelstan added softly.

Aethelwulf chuckled and sat on his heels, dragging Athelstan back on knees.

“When I look at you like this, with your ass in the air and your pretty little face, I can understand why they would do so. I bet you let them all take a turn at you.” His nails dug painfully in Athelstan’s hipbones. “Anyway… Let they come.”

With that, he forcefully pushed his dick all the way in, earning a broken wail in return.

“God, you’re tight for a whore.” He grabbed a fistful of Athelstan hair and dragged him up to press him against his chest, throwing a strong arm around his throat to keep him still. The movement made his cock sink in even deeper. Then he started thrusting rough and fast, lost in the pained sobs of his captive. Athelstan shut his eyes tightly, only to reopen them when a particularly sharp thrust caused a searing pain to shot through his whole body.

And then… Ragnar was standing there a few steps away, with a sad look which Athelstan had rarely witnessed on his face.

_No…_

“Ragnar…”

“Shut your mouth, little pagan.” Aethelwulf increased his pace, unrelenting.

Athelstan let his tears fall freely. Ragnar came closer and kneeled on the bed, gently stroking Athelstan’s bruised cheekbone. _I will get you back, Athelstan. It’ll be over soon_. Ragnar’s face was tender, as it had been during their shared nights in Kattegat. He wiped some tears away with his thumb. _Shhh, don’t cry. I’ll get you back_.

“Shh, little pagan. One day you’ll stop crying.”

_And I will kill you._

Aethelwulf’s thrust became erratic and he stilled, spilling inside of Athelstan. Everything was silent now, apart from their ragged breaths. Ragnar was gone. Aethelwulf pulled out and push Athelstan back on the bed. The King’s son got up and straightened his clothes, watching the small man curl on his side, facing away from him. He leaned down one last time and run a hand on the back of his lovely pagan’s thighs, coated with seed and blood.

“Don’t forget to attend mass tomorrow. I would be disappointed otherwise.”

Then Aethelwulf turned and left the room. Athelstan reached weakly under his pillow and grazed his arm ring.

“They will come back,” he whispered. _For me._


	2. I will reach inside just to find my heart is beating

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Set after the time jump. The Northmen are back.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Title is from Bleeding Out, by Imagine Dragons.

“I didn’t think that was possible, but your work gets more impressive with every passing day, Athelstan”.

 

Athelstan stopped writing and raised his eyes from the scroll he was working on, turning around.

 

“I did not hear you coming in, Sire” he replied, standing and giving the King a small bow of his head.

 

Ecbert smiled softly. “You never hear me coming in when you are in this room. Please, sit.” The King did as such himself, taking a seat in front of Athelstan. “Actually, I believe this is the only place I ever see you with your guard down.”

 

“Sire, I –”

 

Ecbert raised his hand to stop him.

 

“Don’t try to lie, Athelstan. You’ve been here for some time now.”

 

_Eight months and twenty-four days. Quite some time, yes._

“And I’ve been watching you. Others might not notice, but you’re always a little tense outside of this room. Even when you smile, which I personally believe you should do more often. Is something troubling you?”

 

Athelstan studied the King’s face for a moment, twitching the feather he was still holding. All he could see was genuine concern. Ecbert had always treated him as an equal, had been kind to him. _If you can forget about the crucifixion threatening_. He had even given him a library, which turned out to be so much more than that. The library was like a sanctuary now, the only place he felt safe. The only place where rough hands couldn’t rip him apart.

 

Athelstan had grown to like Ecbert, though he wished he didn’t. Somehow, liking him made everything harder and more conflicted. _How is that even possible?_ Things would be easier if he could just despise him as much as he did regarding Aethelwulf.

 

Ecbert cleared his throat.

 

“My apologies Sire. Sometimes my thoughts carry me away. Well, I guess I… I’ve always been a bit wary since that day on the cross. Nothing more.” _You would be too, Sire_.

 

The older man kept staring at him, stroking his beard thoughtfully. Athelstan shifted uncomfortably under the scrutiny, playing slightly with the feather between his fingers.

 

“Do you get along well with my son?”

 

Athelstan’s fingers stilled. _That is not the phrasing I would use_.

 

“I don’t speak a lot with him, Sire.” _At least, that’s not a lie_. “He’s either away from the castle or busy with other tasks when he is here.” _Too bad I’m involved in it_.

 

Ecbert hummed absently.

 

“Yes, I noticed that you two scarcely have any contact. But he looks at you just like a hawk looks at a mouse. A quite helpless mouse, one would think.”

 

_Your worst enemy is often the one you deem helpless._

“Sire, there is nothing for you to worry about.”

 

“Probably,” the King replied. A small thud on the window finally directed his eyes away from Athelstan’s face. The young man followed his gaze and couldn’t hold back a sharp intake of breath when he saw the raven that had just landed on the windowsill. _Again_. “Or maybe, my dear son shares my interest in pagans.”

 

Athelstan felt a shiver run along his spine. And when did his heart start beating so loud? Before he could find something to say –and really, what could he say? – the sound of hurried footsteps approaching the room broke the heavy silence which had settled.

 

Athelstan turned around right when a dishevelled soldier opened the door, obviously out of breath. His clothes were muddy and his face a mix of mud and blood.

 

“What on earth...”

 

“Your son, Sire!” the soldier cut in.

 

_Speaking of the devil._

 

“They took him! The Northmen, they… they’re back.”

 

Still facing the soldier, Athelstan had to bite the inside of his cheek to keep his surprised yelp inside. He was quite glad that the King couldn’t see his face right now. He also noticed that the soldier was still clutching his sword.

 

“How can it be that the Northmen have my son while I didn’t even know in the first place that they reached our shore once again?” the King asked coldly.

 

“They arrived at the West coast, my King. Far from where we were expecting them. We were hunting and then…” Athelstan had to smile inwardly at the irony of the situation. “Then they attacked us and took him as a hostage. All his men are dead, they spared me to tell you…”

 

Ecbert waved his hand impatiently, shutting him.

 

“Go and tell to my men to prepare their swords. We’re marching west.”

 

The soldier bowed hastily and left. Athelstan turned again towards the King, who was rubbing the bridge of his nose.

 

“Sire, may I…”

 

“Speak plainly Athelstan.”

The young man straightened his back.

 

“You would never make such a decision if you weren’t angry. If you send your men to attack the Northmen you son will die.”

 

The King got up swiftly and took a step forward, allowing him to hover above Athelstan.

 

“Is that so?”

 

Athelstan raised his chin slightly. “If you attack them, he will die before any of your men can reach him. We both know that.”

 

“But obviously you have the answer to this problem.” Outside the window, the raven let out a loud croak.

 

“Let me got there, Sire. I’m the only one they won’t kill.”

 

“So much for the helpless mouse then,” the King whispered.

 

“I can get them to free him. You said it yourself once, you feel you can trust me. You can.”

 

Ecbert remained silent for a few seconds.

 

“I trust you. And I allow you to go. You’ll get a horse and you’ll go with my men. But if my son doesn’t return, none of the Northmen will have time to reach their boats.”

 

The King straightened and headed towards the doorway.

 

“One last thing, Athelstan. Should you decide to leave with them, know that you’ll be missed.”

 

Ecbert stepped out of the room and Athelstan could finally allow his hands to shake with relief. Outside, the raven left in a rustle of feathers.

 

_I knew you’d come back._

*

 

The ride to the West coast took them a few hours. It seemed like days to Athelstan. Maybe because the monk robe was the worst thing to ride a horse with. When they stopped on a hill above the beach he immediately understood that the Northmen didn’t have a chance in case of an attack. Ecbert hadn’t gathered his whole army but the men sent would be enough to kill everyone.

 

From where they stood, Athelstan could see men moving quickly on the beach. Their arrival had been noticed.

 

“What are you waiting for, _monk_?” a soldier asked, almost spitting that last word. “Go. And don’t take too long.”

 

Athelstan ignored the hateful looks directed his way and directed his horse down the hill. Only a hundred meters left. The whole camp was staring at him. Fifty meters.

 

_Where is…_

 

The men in front of him moved slightly away and Athelstan’s heart stopped beating for one second. Ragnar appeared in the front row. The worried frown on his face seemed to fly away when he recognised Athelstan. Twenty meters. Athelstan dismounted his horse and tried not to run towards Ragnar, who seemed to go through the same struggle. Ten meters. Five. Two. One. They both stopped, staring in each other’s eyes. Athelstan fisted his hands in Ragnar’s tunic. Ragnar seemed to hesitate for a second, and then he put a hand at the back of Athlestan’s head, fingers caught between his braids.

 

“You’re alive,” he whispered.

 

He roughly buried Athelstan’s face against his neck, slipping his other arm around the smaller man’s shoulders and using it to press him in a crushing embrace.

 

“You’re alive. The Seer was right.”

 

Athelstan closed his eyes and breathed in the smell he had missed so much. He could feel Ragnar’s hammering pulse under his lips.

 

“I knew you would come back. I saw your raven.”

 

Ragnar put his hands on each side of his face, pulling him back enough to look at him.

 

“I saw it many times,” Athelstan added.

 

Ragnar looked briefly at his lips then back at his eyes.

 

“You were in my dreams, Athelstan, and in my dreams I was holding you. You are never leaving my side again. Never.”

 

Athelstan’s voice caught in his throat and he just nodded shakily. He suddenly remembered that no, they were not alone. Everyone was there, staring at them. King Horik and his son, Floki, Torstein, Lagertha. _Lagertha_. He had some serious catching up to do. And next to her…

 

“Bjorn?”

 

Ragnar smiled proudly.

 

“Yes. He was really anxious to see you again.”

 

Okay, now Athelstan could feel his eyes watering. They went back to the Viking warriors slowly, Ragnar still holding his shoulder. Lagertha was the first one to talk.

 

“We missed you.” She leaned in and whispered in his ear. “Honestly, Ragnar’s sulking was starting to get insufferable.”

 

A small laugh escaped Athelstan at that. Bjorn smiled at him knowingly. Athelstan didn’t have words yet to greet them. All he could was to take their faces in. Torstein was beaming and didn’t even try to hide it. Floki… well, he was just being Floki.

 

But Athelstan had something to do. He turned to Ragnar.

 

“We don’t have much time. Where’s the King’s son?”

 

Ragnar snorted.

 

“He’s in my tent. Come with me.”

 

They went to Ragnar’s tent, followed by Horik, Torstein, Floki, Lagertha and Bjorn. Aethelwulf was sitting on the floor, his hands tied behind him to a post. His face was bruised from the earlier fight, but nothing too bad.

 

“We didn’t think he would cross our way but the gods smiled on us,” Ragnar gestured to his prisoner. “When I recognised him I decided to trade him against you.”

 

“I need to talk to him. I won’t be long.”

 

Ragnar leaned back against the table, still close enough to hear. The others were there too but they wouldn’t understand a word. Athelstan lowered himself to Aethelwulf’s level, resting a knee on the ground.

 

“Ah, my little pagan.” Out of the corner of his eye, Athelstan could see that Ragnar was already stiffening. “Did you come here to kill me?”

 

“No. I’m here to tell you that you’ll live. Your father’s men are waiting for you outside.”

 

“You came here in person.” Aethelwulf raised an inquisitive eyebrow. “Did you want a goodbye fuck?”

 

Ragnar’s hand went to the hilt of his sword. Aethelwulf caught the movement and smirked.

 

“Don’t worry Ragnar Lothbrok. I kept him warm throughout the winter. It was quite a rough winter this year.” Athelstan raised an appeasing towards Ragnar but kept his attention on Aethelwulf. “Anyway, little pagan. I knew you wouldn’t want to kill me.”

 

Athelstan shook his head, laughing softly.

 

“Don’t get me wrong my Lord. I want to kill you. But doing it would kill us all and you’re not worth it. Besides…” Athelstan’s voice broke. “I don’t enjoy killing, I-”

 

“You killed innocent men before,” Aethelwulf pointed out.

 

“You’re not an innocent man!” Athelstan snapped. “You’re far from being an innocent man. So yes, I killed. But I did it in battle, or out of fear, or even out of mercy. I don’t enjoy killing and if I slit your throat right now… I will do it out of revenge and I will enjoy it. Not for long, but I will. And I don’t want that, I don’t want to feel pleasure while giving death.”

 

“How noble of you,” Aethelwulf mumbled.

 

“How human of me. Not that you can understand.” Athelstan stood up and looked at Ragnar. “I’m done.”

 

“So, what did he say?” Floki asked from the back.

 

“That he doesn’t want to kill him” Ragnar answered, and Athelstan could definitely hear the tiny note of disappointment in his voice.

 

Floki let out a Floki kind of laugh. “Oh it’s okay. I want to.”

 

“No!” Athelstan stepped in front of him. “We can’t do that.”

 

He ran a tired hand over his face. Floki’s eyes narrowed at the movement, even though Athelstan didn’t understand why.

 

“Athelstan is right. We let him go,” Ragnar said calmly.

 

Athelstan sighed in relief and turned back to free Aethelwulf. Floki’s voice froze him in place when he spoke again.

 

“Where is your arm ring, _priest_?”

 

His arm ring. With all these events, he had forgotten about it. He gestured weakly to Aethelwulf.

 

“He has it.”

 

Bjorn and Lagertha exchanged a puzzled look, and Ragnar started playing with the hilt of his sword again. Athelstan crouched and reached for the leather purse attached to the prince’s belt. He opened and found what he knew was always kept there. His arm ring. He got up and showed it to all of them.

 

“Can you explain how the son of our enemy got your arm ring?” Horik asked.

 

He could. The memory hit him like a wave.

 

_It had been a few weeks after Aethelwulf had first come to his room. He came in an evening, like he used to do two or three times a week._

_“I had quite a rough day. You’d better distract me well.”_

_He threw a struggling Athelstan on the bed, one knee on the small of his back._

_“Fighting won’t get you anywhere. Now stop it. I just need to raise your hips a bit.”_

_And the King’s son had taken his pillow. But he never put it under Athelstan, dropping it the floor instead._

_“What is that?”_

_He reached out and grabbed the arm ring which had been there all the time._

_“I remember seeing that kind of jewellery when I went to the Vikings camp. All the men I saw had one. Turn, pagan.” Athelstan obeyed. “How did you get one?”_

_Athelstan swallowed, keeping his mouth resolutely shut. Aethelwulf sighed and grabbed his throat. He tightened his fingers just enough to show him that he could do a lot worse._

_“By killing Englishmen,” he answered._

_“You seem to like that thing. Keeping it close every night. Who gave it to you?”_

_Athelstan stared defiantly. Aethelwulf released his throat and left the bed._

_“Very well. I guess I’ll just have to throw this thing into a fire and see how much time it takes to melt it down.”_

_Athelstan grabbed his wrist before he could take another step. “Wait. Ragnar Lothbrok gave it to me.”_

_“I could have bet on that one. Another good reason for me to destroy it then.”_

_“Don’t!” Athelstan threw himself on his knees, clutching at Aethelwulf’s thigh. “Please don’t. I’ll do whatever you want.”_

_“I can’t believe it. I’ve been trying to make you beg all these days and all it took was that stupid thing.”_

_The King’s son did look sincerely bemused. Of course, he couldn’t understand what the arm ring truly meant to Athelstan. It was the last thing left tying him to Ragnar. He had to protect it at all costs._

_“Well, we’ll see if your mouth feels as good as your ass.” Aethelwulf took his cock out of his pants, already hard. “Go on. I’m not a patient man.”_

_Athelstan closed his eyes and took him tentatively in his mouth. He had to fight his immediate surge to pull back and focused on every trick he knew to make this as fast as possible. Aethelwulf moaned above him and gripped his hair, pushing a little more in his mouth. Athelstan could feel the cold metal of his arm ring pressing against his head._

_“Shh, we’re not in a rush. And I don’t want to come in you mouth.”_

_Athelstan swirled his tongue around the man’s cock and choked when Aethelwulf’s hips snapped forward._

_“Enough.” He pulled him back by his hair and on his feet. He sat on the bed, resting his back against the wall. “Now, undress. And then sit on my lap, facing me.”_

_Athelstan obeyed. As soon as he straddled Aethelwulf, the Englishman grabbed his cock and began to stroke him, bringing unwanted pleasure._

_“From now on, you’ll have to be a little more enthusiastic. And I’m doing you a favour right now. The master doesn’t have to please the whore.”_

_Athelstan could have spat at his face. With his other hand, Aethelwulf reached for his leather purse and took out a now familiar, small bottle of oil._

_“Use it and open yourself up.”_

_He obeyed. At least he would be stretched properly, which was a small victory, really._

_“Now, lower yourself on my cock. Slowly, I want to feel every inch of you.”_

_Athelstan positioned himself above Aethelwulf’s and pushed down. The King’s son stopped stroking him._

_“Keep going, my little pagan. Yes, just like that.”_

_Athelstan was now fully seated. Aethelwulf resumed stroking him, fast and efficient, accompanying the movement of his hand with shallow thrusts of his hips. Athelstan whimpered and hated himself for it. He was getting close._

_“Come, little pagan.”_

_He came, for the first time in weeks. When his body finally stopped shaking, Aethelwulf turned them and laid him almost gently on his back, still fully hard inside of him. He dropped the arm ring next to Athelstan’s head._

_“I… I can help you with that, m-my Lord,” he stuttered._

_“Very thoughtful of you. I think I’ll keep your arm ring with me, just in case you willingness wavered. No, don’t give me these pleading eyes. You know it’s the best way to do this.”_

_Aethelwulf started to pull out, stopping at the head of his cock. “For now, I’ll accept your offer to help me.”_

_And he slammed back in. Athelstan cried sharply and grasped the sheet._

_“Please stop! It –it’s too sensitive right now. I can suck-” his words broke with another long, rough thrust. “Please! It hurts…”_

_“You can scream if it makes you feel better.”_

_He did._

“It doesn’t matter how he got it. I did everything necessary to protect it and that’s all that counts. Now, we have to release him.”

 

“I agree with him.” Ragnar said. He cut the rope restraining Aethelwulf and pulled him roughly to his feet. He pushed him out of the tent and walked him towards the hill, Athelstan by his side. They were now in sight of the soldiers. Ragnar stopped, ready to let the King’s son go away. However, Aethelwulf watched him expectantly.

 

“I’m curious, Ragnar Lothbrok. Does he scream as much with you as he did with me?”

 

“Ragnar, don’t –”

 

The Northman punched Aethelwulf hard, sending him sprawling on the ground. Athelstan could swear he heard some bones cracking. Judging from the blood flowing from the prince’s nose, he wasn’t mistaken. Ragnar stepped between Aethelwulf’s spread legs.

 

“If Athelstan wished it, I would draw a blood eagle on your back,” He hissed. “But he doesn’t. He doesn’t want revenge.”

 

Above them, some soldiers started to draw their swords. Ragnar went on, completely ignoring them.

 

“He is so pure that he won’t hurt the man who tortured him for months. But I can tell you one thing. I am not that pure. You will pay for what you did. I may have to wait for years, but you will pay.”

 

Ragnar stepped and pulled Athelstan to his side, snaking a protective arm around his small waist.

 

“Now go back to your father before I teach you what a blood eagle is. And don’t forget what I said.”

 

Aethelwulf stood up awkwardly and headed towards the hill, not turning his back before he put a good distance between them. Then some of his men helped him climbing up the hill and they disappeared out of sight. Athelstan rested his head against Ragnar’s chest and closed his eyes.

 

“What do you want to do Athelstan?” Ragnar asked softly.

 

“Hold me.” The grip around him tightened comfortably. “Take me home.” Ragnar kissed the top of his head, more tender than he had ever been.

 

“I was hoping you would say that.”


End file.
